bittersweet
by a-prickly-rose
Summary: A little bitter, a little sweet - India's long life has always been a mixture of both. [a series of oneshots involving India] [will be updated very slowly]


_**Title:** Melancholy_

_**Author:** Whiskey Bloodsbane Pincher_

_**Rating**: T_

_**Genre(s)**: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Family(?)_

**_Summary: _**_It's the eve of independence, but India still feels restless._

_**Warning:** A little Hindi cursing, a Gandhi representation, mentions of Pakistan OC._

_**a/n:** This is the first in a series of oneshots ranging from pointless fluff to depressing angst, all involving India because I hardly ever see fics involving him. There are going to be cameo appearances by other characters, mind you. I'm going to aim for some historical accuracy in most of the chapters._  
_So, here it is._  
_A little Note: Mahatma Gandhi did not participate in the celebration of India's independence because of the partition of India and the formation of Pakistan. Instead, he spent the day in Calcutta (Modern day 'Kolkata')So, building on that, I have this headcanon that neither did India. And Gandhiji is referred to as 'Bapu' in this. It means 'Father'._  
_Now, the Hindi is translated and all the historical facts are explained at the end of this chapter._

* * *

**BITTERSWEET**

**i.**

_**melancholy**_

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_1__4 August, 11:45 PM, 1947_

Pain is inescapable and India knew that. He had been around for so long. Too long. Longer than that English bastard, in fact. And he had experienced every form of pain in his long, long life. But never had he experienced_ this_. He had seen the empires of his land rise and fall. He had even nursed some of them when they lost a part of their territory. Never had he realized what they had went through; never had he realized how damn painful it was. Until now.

This pain was _killing_ him. A part of him had been ripped out completely. It was like losing a limb, but worse.

And he felt empty. So _empty._

He stumbled as he made his way over to the quaint ashram. He clutched his stomach and doubled over, dropping to his knees.

Oh, the _pain._

No, he had to keep going. He had to meet _him._ _He_ was the only one who would understand. And _he_ was the only one who wasn't rejoicing along with his people. He didn't really have a choice.

He reached the entrance to the little building.

'_Bapu_…,' he muttered as he fell on his knees.

'Raj? India?' a voice echoed through the empty ashram, '_Beta_, is that you?'

India heard footsteps shuffle over to him. He tried to speak but only a groan escaped from his mouth as a new wave of pain washed over him.

'Oh, India…'

Frail hands gripped his shoulders with surprising strength and helped him to a room. Settling down on the rather hard floor, India looked up at his almost-father figure. Which was rather funny in some sorts as he was hundreds of years older than his 'father'. But Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi had a way of making you feel like an inexperienced idiot.

'Is it the partition?'

India nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The old man's wrinkled face softened.

'It must be hard.'

'I saw him,' India managed to get out, 'Pakistan.'

_Bapu_'s eyes hardened behind his round glasses almost imperceptibly, but his voice was gentle.

'How was it?'

'I saw him during a meeting. He is a small thing, really. Just a little kid. But he ran away before I could talk to him,' he smiled bitterly, 'I don't think he likes me.'

'He is going to have a hard time without a mentor.'

'I know and it isn't his fault. That poor boy.'

India could feel his eyes watering.

_Dammit._

He blinked furiously. Bapu laid a hand on his head.

'This is wrong,' India whispered, 'This is so, very wrong.'

'I know,_ beta_,' Gandhi replied, 'But this is what the _firangi_ have left behind. We have to accept this. _We have to_.'

'That bastard England. _Vo kameena_. ,' India spat out, 'It's all his fau-'

'Raj,' Bapu cut off him, his voice stern, 'It is not his fault and you know it.'

India sighed. He knew Bapu was correct. The countries were merely pawns in the hands of their leaders.

'I'm sorry,' he muttered, looking down.

The boards of the floor creaked as Gandhi went over to sit by his charkha.

'It's not your fault,_ beta_. It is not your fault at all,' he said wearily as he began to spin khadi.

'Why are you not out there celebrating? We are free. We have attained _swaraj_. You have achieved what you have been working for your entire life.'

Gandhi chuckled bitterly.

_'Beta_, partition isn't freedom. A new country has been born. People have been uprooted from their homes. Families are being ripped apart at this very moment. Riots are going to erupt all over the country. Animosity is growing between the Hindus and the Muslims. This isn't a cause to celebrate.'

India nodded slowly.

'Riots,' he said softly, 'I feel them. The people are getting restless.'

Gandhi smiled at him wearily, the moonlight reflecting off his face making him seem a thousand times older.

'This is just the beginning.'

India closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. Yes, this was just the beginning. The beginning of an eternity of war against a part of himself. His….brother. His _chhota bhai._

The pain from the riots. The little boy should be feeling that too, shouldn't he? And he had just been born. To suffer so much at such an age. How would he be feeling right now? Did he understand why it hurt?

He was tired of this. He was tired of England lording over him. He was tired of feeling pain. He was just so tired. As if a century of servitude had not been enough, England had decided to give a last new gift in the form of this partition. Oh, how he was tired of England controlling his life. Controlling his people. _Killing _his people. India still remembered the Jallianwala Bagh Massacre. The Butcher of Amritsar had opened fire on his innocent people. He had _felt_ his people dying. He had felt more than one thousand people dying. Every single one of them.

It was funny that it was this gruesome act that had motivated his people into a full-scale rebellion.

But it was true, this was not England's, not _Arthur Kirkland's_ fault. It was the blasted Company and their blasted Queen. India sighed deeply. Sometimes….sometimes he hated being a country. He stared blankly at the wall in front of him and started counting the cracks. He needed to distract himself from the pain.

Soon he went out of cracks to count, but he continued to recite the numbers in his mind.

_Ninety-nine, hundred – over a hundred women and children jumped inside a well and drowned during the Massacre – hundred-one, hundred-two – the Bengal Famine, over three million people dead – hundred-three, hundred-four – they didn't bring any help, oh no, the ships were barred from bringing aid – hundred-five, hundred-six – the Revolt of 1857, so much terror, so many deaths – hundred-seven, hundred-eight – it hurts, the riots, the people, dead, dying _again_ – hundred-nine, hundred-ten – how many are going to die this time? – hundred-twelve, hundred-thirteen, hundred-fourteen – could it be more than a million? – hundred-fifteen, hundred-sixteen – _

'India? Are you okay?'

India looked up startled. He untangled his fingers from his hair and straightened. Bapu had stopped spinning and was looking at him worriedly.

'I-I'm good. I'm okay, everything's okay,' he muttered.

'You don't look it,' Bapu said and then sighed.

'Please, _beta_, take care of yourself. Everything's going to be fine.'

'I know,' India said, forcing himself to smile, 'I know.'

Bapu looked at him for a moment and then turned back to his wheel.

'You don't have to beat yourself up over anything, Raj.'

India nodded but did not reply. They lapsed into silence and the only sound was of Bapu spinning, spinning, spinning…..

India's eyes slipped to the little clock slung on the wall in front of him. His eyebrows furrowed.

_Tik, tok, tik, tok_

Ten minutes to midnight.

_Tik, tok, tik, tok._

Ten minutes to freedom.

_Freedom._

Deep inside him something stirred. He was going to be free. The freedom was so near; he could almost taste it. It had been something he had always dreamed of. He had never been free. Or maybe he had been once. But then came the Delhi Sultanate and then the Mauryan Empire and then the Mughal Empire and –

India stopped thinking. He had never truly been free. Not really. There had _always_ been someone hanging over him. It was scary, really, the thought of being free. He looked up at the clock.

Five minutes. So near.

'It's near,' Bapu said, voicing his thoughts.

'Yes,' he whispered softly, 'Near.'

India watched the minute hand of the clock which moved agonizingly slowly. He watched the time go by as if hypnotized by the mechanical melody of that old, worn clock.

_Two minutes._

So many people had dreamed to see this day. So many people had given up their_ lives_ for this day. _Swatantrata, _at last.

_One minute. _

India's heart sped up. Freedom at midnight. _Aadhi raat ko swatantrata. _There was something about this that made his freedom all the more beautiful.

When the clock finally struck midnight, nothing happened. India's pain did not go, and nor did his exhaustion. No, nothing happened. But India could_ feel_ something. Among the pain, relief. _Jubilation_. He could almost hear the land sighing as it let go of its past. He was free. His _people_ were free.

'Independence,' India breathed out.

'But not for all.'

'No, not for all,' India replied, 'But freedom nonetheless.'

Bapu nodded lightly and went back to spinning. There was something sad about that sight.

India stood up, leaning against the wall for support and went to stand at the window. Moonlight fell on his face, his eyes seeming to burn silver.

He wished he could celebrate. But how could he when he knew that his people were dying at this very moment?

India had gained his independence after a century under the British Raj. But this victory was bittersweet, tainted by the blood of those who were dying at that very moment.

So, he just stood there, looking at his land and the Father of the Nation sat there spinning his charkha.

_Such melancholy._

* * *

_**useless author's useless a/n:** I hope this wasn't too rusty. Please don't kill me. *hides*_

_TRANSLATION:_

_British Raj: British Rule. Yes 'Raj' means rule and thus, it's India's human name in this story._

_Bapu: Father. Gandhi is the 'the Father of the Nation' and affectionately known as 'Bapu' among Indians._

_Beta: Son_

_Firangi: Foreigner/Outsider, especially a White or British person. This tern was widely used during the British Raj. It was often used in a derogatory way, just like how Indians were called 'Colored'._

_Vo kameena: That bastard._

_Charkha: The oldest form of a spinning wheel. Gandhi refused to wear foreign-made clothes as a part of his resistance against the foreigners. He made his own clothes by using the charkha._

_Khadi: Bapu wore khadi which means 'hand-spun cloth'._

_Chhota bhai: Little brother._

_Swatantrata: Independence/Freedom_

_Swaraj: Independence and self-goverenance._

_Aadhi raat ko swatantrata: Freedom at midnight_

_FACTS:_

_Partition of India: India was a huge-ass country. But then the British decided to split it up in the wake of its independence. It was a horrible, horrible time. People rushed to migrate to either Pakistan or India. The Muslims, the Hindus and the Sikhs led riots which killed thousands of people. An estimate of 14 million people were displaced. In fact, it is the largest mass migration in human history. The refugee camps did not have enough food for the people. Women were raped, families torn apart and other such gruesome atrocities took place during this time._

_Jallianwala Bagh Massacre of Amritsar: General Dyer opened fire at a group of innocent non-violent protesters. He is called 'The Butcher of Amritsar' because of obvious reasons. He blocked all the exits and exterminated everyone within the Bagh. This act led to nationwide anger. He killed everybody, that man. Even the children were not spared. Many women and children jumped down the wells and drowned to escape the bullets. And this guy is seen as a hero in England. Go figure._

_The Bengal Famine: This famine killed approximately ten million people. This is more than the number of Jews incarcerated during WWII. Winston Churchill diverted the medical supplies and food being sent to the victims. He hated Indians and I quote - 'I hate Indians. They are a beastly people with a beastly religion. The famine was their own fault for breeding like rabbits.' These people were left alone and this can be looked at as a form of genocide. Heck, it is said to be even worse the Black Plague that terrorized Europe in the fourteenth century. And Mr. Churchill opposed the Nazi discrimination of Jews. Some people are just weird, I tell you._

_The Revolt of 1857: This disruption almost led to the independence of India. Almost. It started off with the mutiny of sepoys of the East India Company in Meerut. This was most probably because of the introduction of these tallow and lard-greased cartridges. These cartridges had to be bitten to release the powder. The cartridges were rumored to have included tallow which was derived from pork and beef which were sacred to Muslims and Hindus respectively. There were also other social and religious factors for the revolt. The revolt spread and mutinies started to happen all over north. It was turning out to be a full-scale rebellion. But it was soon suppressed. The rebellion led to the dissolution of the East India Company in 1858. It also led the British to reorganize the army, the financial system and the administration in country was thereafter directly governed by the crown as the new British Raj._

_Delhi Sultanate, the Mauryan Empire, Mughal Empire, etc.: India has a long history of great empires. These were some of them. Little kingdoms and empires - India had never really been a unified nation. It was because of the British that everyone joined forces to drive them out. The British had managed to conquer India because of our diversity and petty fights among the kingdoms. They didn't see it as a country. Every religion was considered as a different nationality. India was just a bunch of little kingdoms fighting amongst each other._

_I hope all this is accurate. It should be, I guess, as I'm Indian myself. The updating process will be slow. School's on and I've got a million other writing projects. Stupid brain and its stupid ideas._

_I accept prompts/requests/tomatoes being thrown at me._

_EDIT: Huge thank you to The Goliath Beetle for helping me out with the historical facts!_

_R&amp;R!_


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